The Candidate
by drummore
Summary: My take on what might go on behind the scenes with Mills and Dawson. Haven't decided if it's finished or not, I guess I'll have to wait for the next episode...


_**It's been a long, long time since I wrote any FanFic. Guess I've not been much of a fan of anything. But Peter Mills appeared one day, and I think I've got a little bit of a thing for him :)**_

She hadn't intended dating the Candidate. The Lieutenant yes, but the Candidate no.

The Candidate was the lowest of the low. Everybody's bitch. When you said jump, he was the guy who asked how high. The Lieutenant on the other hand was, well, the Lieutenant! Tall, blonde, oh so serious and the man she'd had a serious crush on for...well, that was something she didn't care to admit to.

She'd never had the balls to do anything about it though. Shay knew all about her secret love; some days empathizing and some days relentlessly tormenting. But what did Shay know? Her love life was a bit of screw up if the truth be told. So, instead she'd stood on the sidelines, mooning from afar and longing for the day Hallie was out of the picture.

But even when Hallie had been out of the picture, she hadn't really taken action. Sure, she'd invited him to her cousin's holiday thing, and sure, she'd pulled out the stops on a dress. But had she really taken 'action'? When Casey had rejected her, she hadn't taken it as hard as she thought she might. She hadn't moped or fantasized about what could have been. What she'd actually done the morning after the night before was pick up the phone, call the Candidate and arrange early movie.

A night out with Peter Mills was always a good night out. Funny and smart, he knew some of the best places to eat, was always game for a beer and after five minutes of his company she'd forget about the shit day she'd had, or even why she was pissed. Mills would listen to her moaning, then flash a grin and suddenly she'd be laughing. It was a bit weird, but over the months, the Candidate had become one of her favourite friends. Had she flirted with him? She couldn't quite decide. There'd been times strangers assumed they were 'together', but that was an easy assumption to make when you saw a guy and a girl together.

He was good looking to boot. Even she'd noticed that! Tall, with a cute little ass and, she since she'd sneaked a peek in the locker room, she knew there was a set of washboard abs under that Fire Department t-shirt. And his eyes...there was something about those chocolate brown eyes. She could never work out why he wasn't seeing anybody though. Now and again she'd point out a pretty girl in a bar, but he'd just shake his head and steer the conversation in a new direction.

The night Shay left hospital and back in with Serveride, the Candidate had been her number one choice for dinner. She'd worked her ass off over those short ribs and she wasn't willing to share them with just anybody. Mills really was the only one who'd appreciate just how good that meal was. The way he'd taken control of her kitchen had taken her by surprise. The Candidate didn't make decisions or take control. The Lieutenant, or Captain, or Paramedic made the decisions, and the Candidate did as he was told. Simple. Wait...had that really been the case lately? She couldn't decide. She'd found herself in some odd parts of town because Mills had heard of somewhere good to eat. And there'd been nights when she hadn't even looked at the menu because he'd decided exactly what they were ordering. That night in her apartment he made all the decisions; he'd steered her to a stool at the bench, put an open beer in her hand and worked his magic. She knew her ribs were delicious, but that chocolately soufflé delight he whipped up from a few humble ingredients was truly something special.

The way he'd moved in to kiss her so sweetly...then deeply...then igniting something inside of her, surprised her more than his kitchen command. It wasn't his making a move that had been surprising, it was the way her body had responded. The way her body responded to the Candidate. There was a hunger and desire that she hadn't felt in a long time. It had been as if her hands were no longer hers; pulling his t-shirt over his head, feeling every contour of his arms, then chest, then belly with her fingers, before tugging at his belt to reveal yet more new territory. They hadn't even made it to her bedroom. Instead, he'd exerted his final piece of control, and had her begging for release right there on the floor.

And then it had begun. Something just theirs.

On that first day she'd doubted him. She was terrified of people finding out. The fancy bouquet arriving left her feeling nauseous. How could he? Just theirs and a big fat bunch of flowers for all to see? Then Otis produced that damn card. Why hadn't she trusted him? The look of anger and hurt on his face had made hers flush. She'd want to slide her arms around him right there in the laundry room, smooth the frown from his forehead with her lips and whisper her apologies. Instead she'd had to make amends by SMS when the ambulance was parked up at the emergency room.

She'd fixed her mess though, and Mills was hers again. Then that something of theirs turned into a big thing.

He wasn't perfect. He never put the cap back on the toothpaste tube or put his clothes in the laundry hamper. He slung his damp towel over the shower rail instead of the heated rail and drank milk straight from the carton. He listened to his Mother too much, snored, and had a foul temper at times.

She knew she wasn't perfect either. During their first fight Mills had set her straight. "A crazy fucker with a fucking death wish," was what he'd yelled when he'd found out about her asking Voight for help. She hogged the sheets, sometimes had little regard for procedure, and spent too much time in the bathroom messing around with her hair.

Mills was hers though. And hell, she really liked him. Just the thought of him brought out a beaming smile. The sex was good, more than good actually, but it was more than just a physical thing. She liked being with. Having him around for the boring, everyday stuff made life so much better. Going for a run, or round the grocery store, or even just crashing in front of the TV was good with him. She found herself sharing things with him; what she wanted from the future, what she wanted from the present and what scared the crap out of her. He shared too; how much he missed his father, how much he wanted to join Rescue and how he really had no idea about laundry.

He'd asked her about the Lieutenant once; if they'd had a thing or if she wanted to be with Casey. When she'd told him she only wanted to be with him, Peter Mills, she hadn't meant anything more truthfully in a while.

But keeping it just their thing became harder.

She wanted people to know she was dating the Candidate. And she didn't want the only time she saw her boyfriend to be a few stolen minutes around the station. The Chief had given Mills a lecture about focusing only on the job on day one. Mouch had clocked them making out, then sneaking out from Severide's leaving night. Casey figured she had her sights on somebody else. And Cruz had given them a very knowing look when he'd run into them each separately at the same club.

Shay had commented on the situation too. She was onto her paramedic friend having a new beau, but hadn't quite managed to coax out a name. When she'd finally admitted that it was Mills sharing her bed, there were none of the usual details between friends. Instead of dishing the dirt, she'd taken Shay to the Mills family restaurant for lunch. Greeting Peter with a kiss, she'd introduced the pair. "Peter, my friend from work Lesley. Lesley, my boyfriend Peter." For a moment they'd both looked like they'd been going to explode, then eyed each other up cautiously, and finally found common ground bitching about how crazy a stake in Herman's bar was.

Even though it had been made beside a dumpster on a cold morning, deciding to come clean and out as a couple was an easy one. Not waiting until the Academy dinner was a little more spur of the moment. A long shift, a little heartache over Mills confessing he was jealous of Severide having his old man visit the station, pride over Mills sound judgement in talking the driver off the edge, longing for their date that night, and the thought of some afternoon delight in just a few short hours fuelled her desire for that kiss. She didn't care where it was, or who was around.

And then she'd heard that conversation.

Benny Severide. Henry Mills. Chief Boden. Ingrid Mills. Chief Boden and Ingrid Mills had a fling. Henry Mills tried to prove himself to Chief Boden. Peter Mills lost his father.

Crap. Her head had spun and she'd hit the bar in a daze. She'd downed two vodka on the rocks by the time Mills had found her. The vodka had served only to burn the back of her throat; there'd been no numbness, nor warm fuzzy feeling nor memory loss.

Fuck.

"Morning gorgeous." Her eyes opened a little and there he was, flashing one of those grins, before grazing her lips with a sweet kiss. "Thank you for being my date last night." He looked so content; basking in the glow of the night he'd had and the new day he was looking forward to.

Dawson's stomach lurched. She needed to tell him, but she didn't know how.


End file.
